The Chase (21 page)

S
aturday morning, Kariss sat in the concealed-handgun workshop. She listened to speakers talk about gun safety, the reasons to have a CHL, and stories from those who’d survived a dangerous situation because they knew how to handle a weapon. Some of those she could use in a book.

She’d chosen to take the workshop first and the shooting portion later. To qualify, she needed to shoot fifty rounds, and she’d never held a gun before purchasing the 9mm.

Tigo arrived midmorning and talked briefly about the FBI, encouraging the participants to get involved in their communities to help fight crime. Kariss wanted to stand and shout she knew him, but she restrained. He reminded the participants of the responsibility of having a CHL and that crime fighting was for those trained in the field of law enforcement.

At the end of the day, Kariss was glad she’d pursued her concealed handgun license and even more glad she’d chosen to take the workshop before the shooting practical. She took the written test and felt good about her answers. All she needed now was to learn how to load and shoot. Hitting a target sounded like an impossibility.

When the class was over, she left the building, mindful of her throbbing shoulder. All she wanted was to pick up something to eat and crawl into bed. While she ordered soup and salad at Panera’s, her cell rang. Tigo. He must be in a protective mode.

“Did you make it through the class?”

“Yeah. I think I did fine on the test.”

“You sound tired.”

“I am. Long day, but it was worth it.”

“Do you feel up to the shooting range tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow afternoon sounds good.”

“How about I pick you up around two? Not so sure a woman healing from a gunshot wound should drive to a shooting range. Sounds like you need FBI protection.”

“I drove myself today. Are you asking me out?”

He chuckled. “I want to make sure you learn how to use your 9mm correctly instead of developing bad habits.”

“You’re right. I’ve never had a date at a shooting range.”

“Kariss, go home and take a pain pill.”

She hated it when he was right.

The idea of learning how to shoot a gun gave Kariss a headache. One more time, Tigo reminded her to breathe deeply. The shooting range looked like one on a TV crime show: neat and clean. A group of fathers and daughters had walked in ahead of them … a wise move on the fathers’ part.

“I can’t seem to stop shaking,” she said. “And I’m embarrassed, like everyone knows I don’t know how to do this.”

“This is my recommendation.” Tigo touched her arm. “If you don’t think you could ever shoot anyone, or you’d be too nervous to defend yourself, then this is not for you.”

“I want to learn.” She rubbed her sweaty palms against the sides of her jeans. “I’ll pull myself together.”

“You purchased the 9mm for protection, and the first step is to become acquainted with it. Learn to be calm.”

“All right. Where do I begin?”

“Hold the gun in the palm of your hand. It’s not loaded, and the safety is on. Get to know every part of it so you feel comfortable.” He placed the gun into her hand. “Don’t ever point at something you don’t intend to shoot. When you’re ready, we’ll move on to loading it.”

The gun felt hard, like a small machine. She expected it to have a mind of its own. “I’d never have made it in the Wild West.” She did her best to sound light.

“Handling a gun during those times would have been as natural as cooking on an open fire. Respect its power.”

“My dad should have forced me to learn gun safety instead of giving in to my fears. I did enjoy archery. Did well in it. Dad said I had a good eye.”

“Owning a gun may not be for you, Kariss. That’s why we’re here. Owning and operating a weapon is serious business whether it’s a gun, a bow and arrow, a knife, or a can of Mace.” He stepped behind her and massaged her shoulders, coaxing the tension from her muscles and being careful to avoid the tender spot on her left side.

A jolt of something she didn’t want to feel for Tigo swept through her. “Thanks. I appreciate your taking the time to teach me.”

“No problem. I’ve got a stake in keeping you alive.”

“My testimony will help you nail at least one of the Arroyos.”

“True. But you’re a friend, too, and I’d like to keep you alive.” His breath tickled her neck.

Should she step away before he sensed what he was doing to her? “You’ve helped me research my novel, and I really want to do something in return besides bringing you coffee every morning. I want to point him out in a lineup and testify in court.”

“Then understand what you’re doing now is part of the price.” He gave her right shoulder a pat. “Ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now let’s hold the gun properly as though you were going to aim at a target. Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire. Use two hands, one over the top.”

“I’ve seen cops hold a gun like this on TV.”

He smiled. “They got that part right.”

“Then you put the bullets in a clip?”

“It’s called a magazine, and your semi-automatic holds thirteen rounds. I’ll show you.”

Tigo inserted the magazine and handed the gun back to her. “Focus on the target with both eyes. Line up the sights, the back with the front.”

Kariss followed his instructions. “My eyes feel so dry. But at least the earplugs I’m wearing will mute the sound. I bet it’ll be loud.”

“Blink and clear your mind of everything but the target. Now, slip the tip of your forefinger over the trigger. Pull the trigger gently. Remember to breathe.”

She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, but instead she listened to his voice gently walking her through the process. The gun popped, and she realized how tense her shoulders were.

“Good job,” he said. “You have a good eye.”

Kariss whispered a thanks. “And I have to do fifty of these for my CHL?”

“Yes. Are you ready to keep going?” He studied her a moment. “I have an idea.” He took a pen from his shirt, pulled the collar of her shirt aside, and wrote something on her bandage.

“Did you autograph my shoulder?”

“No. I put a smiley face on it.”

By the time she finished the fifty rounds, Kariss realized several magazine loads of confidence. Her aim was good. Better than good. But that didn’t answer the dilemma about her ability to pull the trigger if a man wanted her dead.

M
onday morning, Kariss was glad to be back at the office. Although the bandage on her shoulder was not a fashion accessory, she did feel a little proud of it, like she carried a medal of honor embellished with Tigo’s smiley face.

Some questions about Tigo surfaced, but she needed time to analyze them. Beneath his problem-solving, mastermind exterior was a man capable of deep emotion. His devotion to his mother proved it. And she refused to dwell on how his massage had rattled her.

Tigo peeked around the entrance to her cubicle. “Good to see you back, Agent Walker.” His dark-chocolate eyes twinkled. “Maybe someone should license you for a gun.”

She wiggled her nose at him. “Very funny. In six weeks or so, I’ll be able to protect myself.”

“In six weeks, we’ll have those bad guys put away. You just use your head, okay?”

She appreciated his concern and thanked him.

Her cell phone rang, and he left her alone. She didn’t recognize the caller but answered anyway, wincing a little. Shooting practice yesterday had made her other shoulder tired.

“Hi, Kariss, how are things going in the new job?”

Mike McDougal. What had she ever seen in him? Certainly nothing more than a face. “How did you get my number?”

“Is that any way to treat an old friend? Oh, we were more than that.”

“But it was over a long time ago.”

“You dumped me for no reason.”

Kariss dug her fingernails into her palm. “Let’s get the facts straight. You lied to me about needing money for your niece.”

“No one believed you.”

“You mean no one believed I could be that stupid.”

He chuckled, a disgusting sound that sounded like he had sinus drainage. “Read my blog lately?”

She bit her tongue to stop any sarcasm. Mike could do tremendous damage on his blog, since it was read by thousands. “Every Thursday morning.”

“You don’t comment.”

“You read those?”

“Every single one. Even those who respond like idiots. After all, they’re my fans, my adoring public.”

She touched her shoulder, feeling the bandage under her shirt. “Imagine that.”

“You’re not being nice, Kariss. Hurts my feelings.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Just wondered how you found me.”

“I remembered you were from Texas City, and I did some searching on the Internet. Called a few of our old friends. Here I am.”

“Since you went to all that trouble, this must be important.”

“You, pretty lady, are always important.” His words were low, seductive. Regret for ever being involved with him washed over her.

“Okay, Mike, what’s really going on?”

“I want to interview Xavier Olvera, an exclusive for Channel 5.”

“Did you contact him?”

“I went through Gilberto, but Xavier refused. Said he felt like the English newspapers and TV were not doing anything to find his wife.”

“He has faith in Univision. After all, their programming with
Aquí y Ahora
helped the FBI solve the death of his daughter.”

“But you could get me the interview. He speaks highly of you.”

Always the angle. “I can’t. I respect Xavier’s stand.”

“Don’t you think you owe Channel 5 the opportunity to continue a gut-wrenching story?”

“Mike, this conversation is going nowhere. I’m not helping you. Xavier Olvera is a friend, and I’ll not exploit him.
Aquí y Ahora
has a follow-up this coming Friday. His allegiance is with them.”

“Let’s discuss this over dinner.”

“No thanks.”

“I have your address.”

“Not any more. I now live in a gated community.”

“You’re a tough woman, Kariss. Where are you working? Because I’ve seen the blog posts about your career headed for a shakedown.”

“I’m a writer.”

“For how long? I’ll ignore what I’m reading. By the way, who’s the lucky man by your side? FBI … That’s heavy research.” Mike laughed. “I’d like to step into his shoes — or rather your bed.”

He made her feel like she needed a shower. Any attempts to remain cordial dissipated. “We’re done.”

“You shouldn’t blow me off. Readers will see a side of the Kiss of Kariss that isn’t conducive to book sales.”

“Go for it, Mike. Those who read your blog soon see your vindictive side. I wouldn’t lower myself to contradict it.”

She disconnected the call, wondering what McDougal Reports would say about her. He couldn’t do any more damage than Meredith’s recent blog.

Kariss Walker has given the kiss of death to her career. She’s decided to write suspense in an over-saturated market in which she doesn’t have the skill to run with the big leaguers. That’s why the Rockford Literary Agency has chosen to discontinue representation.

How interesting … since Kariss had been the one to end the professional relationship. But the devastation to her career had already occurred. Posting a rebuttal to Meredith’s post only put Kariss on the defense. Readers of her blog were professionals in the publishing industry. McDougal Reports hit the eyes of fans.

An hour later she left her work area for the employee lounge. A bag of Vitamin M&M’s sounded really good. Ever since she’d started this project, her life had taken a definite bend in the road.

No sooner had the thought left her brain than Hillary walked in, and there was no avoiding the assertive agent.

“Hi, Hillary, how are you?” If she gathered up her purse and walked to the door, she might not stop her.

The woman’s face brightened. “Just the lady I want to see.”

“What can I do for you?” Kariss regretted the words as soon as she spoke them.

“Remember when you told me to take an online course on punctuation and grammar?”

“Yes. Did you enroll?”

“No. Because I felt it stifled my creativity. Stole my voice. But thanks to you, I perused the entire writer website and decided to start over with a new story.”

“Wonderful. I’d like for you to reconsider the English refresher. It—”

“Oh no. I’m convinced that I don’t need it. An editor can stick in those little commas and fix my verb tenses. But my new story has me up all night writing fast and furiously.”

Kariss reached into her purse and pulled out an M&M, popping it into her mouth. “What’s it all about?”

“It’s a historical novel set in medieval times during the bubonic plague. One of the rats ends up in time travel to the year three thousand.”

“A rat?”

“Yes, but once he’s in a futuristic setting, he transforms into a human. A very sexy man.”

Oh, please, tell me this isn’t so.

Hillary giggled. “I have romance, inner and outer conflict, and a character arc just like you said. Want to know the hero’s name?”

“Sure.”

“Michelangelo. He paints too. Can’t wait to send you the first chapter.”

Kariss cringed. “Make sure it’s polished. Take your time. I understand your first priority is your position here.”

“I’m thinking of resigning.”

“Let me make a suggestion. When you earn as much from your writing as you do here, then consider a career change.”

Hillary startled. “But I need time to write.”

“Try getting up earlier in the morning or staying up later at night.”

Hillary’s shoulders slumped, then she glanced at her watch. “Great, I’m late for a meeting. You really destroyed my bubble, Kariss. Are you worried I’ll take over your spot on the bestsellers list?”

Kariss took a deep breath and walked toward the door. “I welcome the challenge, Hillary.”